


Jo is a Happy Girl

by bananas_are_good_9



Category: Original Work
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I mean, References to Depression, i guess, thoughts of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 18:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananas_are_good_9/pseuds/bananas_are_good_9
Summary: Wow, so um. Hello.I had some.... issues... while I was trying to get to sleep and I had to get them out and away from me. This is my first time trying something as straightforward as this so we'll see how it goes, I suppose.... I don't expect this to get much attention and that's fine.I just can't wait to look back at this in twenty years and laugh at how angsty I was.... hopefullyThis is a first draft written in and hour and a half of sleep devprived... upsetness. Please excuse any errors and let me know, if you want.Sorry to anyone subscribed to me and clicked on the link. If you were expecting another story, I'm working on them. Thanks for your patience.Enjoy?





	Jo is a Happy Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so um. Hello.
> 
> I had some.... issues... while I was trying to get to sleep and I had to get them out and away from me. This is my first time trying something as straightforward as this so we'll see how it goes, I suppose.... I don't expect this to get much attention and that's fine. 
> 
> I just can't wait to look back at this in twenty years and laugh at how angsty I was.... hopefully
> 
>  
> 
> This is a first draft written in and hour and a half of sleep devprived... upsetness. Please excuse any errors and let me know, if you want.
> 
> Sorry to anyone subscribed to me and clicked on the link. If you were expecting another story, I'm working on them. Thanks for your patience.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy?

Jo is a happy girl.

 

She’s helpful, friendly, and kind.

 

She comes from a happy little family, in happy little house, on a happy little street.

 

She is a typical girl her age. Staying up late only to get up early the next. Going to school as she should and getting grades her parents are okay with. She doesn’t make friends easily but the few she has are steadfast. Jo is a happy girl.

 

Her life is simple and perfect.

 

 

Until it isn’t.

 

 

One day, dad leaves with a suitcase and the promise that nothing will change as a parting gift. Life goes on without him and, as years pass and he drifts in and out of her life, Jo realizes she doesn’t remember living with her father at all. But that’s okay. Parents split up. Jo has her sisters to look after her.

 

Everything is fine, Jo is a happy girl.

 

 

Jo’s sister is sick, has been for some time. It seems like she is always in the hospital. Jo loves her sister and her mother so she tries not to kick up a fuss whenever her mother drags her to the hospital. It scares her to see her sister hooked up to all those machines. She tries to look at her sister as little as possible while she moves to her regular seat in the window. Leaning her head against the cold glass, Jo starts her favorite pass time, the voices of her family fading in the background. She counts the cars in the parking lot. First as a whole, then by color. Twenty seven white, thirty two black. Red and blue are tied at nineteen and a pair of bright yellow convertibles sit in the corner of the lot. She eats her sister’s left over jello and waits for her mother’s call for them to leave. One day, when they arrive back at their little house, her mother asks Jo to be the strong one. She agrees, her mother’s tired voice and sister’s haggard face in her mind. But that’s okay. Her sister gets better. Jo doesn’t have to go back to the hospital for a long time and when she does, it’s to meet her nephew.

 

Everything is fine, Jo is a happy girl.

 

 

From a young age, Jo’s shyness and anxieties turn into a voice in the back of her head. The voice whispers, prickling, biting words as she goes day to day. Pointing out how everyone is watching her, laughing behind her back at the rolls on her stomach and her fat legs. _She starts wearing hoodies and jeans every day, heedless of the temperature._ Every compliment, every congratulation has a dance partner following closely. “They don’t really mean it.” It whispers. “They just say this to humor you, to get rid of you faster.” _She now second guesses every kind word given to her, putting on a smile and gives thanks because that is expected of her._ But that’s okay. Jo’s mother sends her to a therapist. Jo has someone to talk to. Someone to confide in.

 

Everything is fine, Jo is a happy girl.

 

 

The world is on fire. Millions of people are beginning to stand for what they believe in and they are finally getting a response, be it good or bad. Every day, Jo scrolls through her social media feed. Headlines covering mass shootings, pride marches, police misconduct, and stories of people finally living as the person they were meant to be slide past her glazed eyes. She sees friends and family speaking out about injustice and knows she should be doing the same. Wants to do the same. But she’s scared. So scared. But that’s okay. Jo can just turn her phone off and go to sleep, try again tomorrow.

 

Everything is fine, Jo is a happy girl.

 

 

Except it’s not, and Jo is a liar.

 

 

Jo’s father doesn’t feel like her father anymore, like someone she can talk to, joke around with. She likes his new wife and she’s happy for them but seeing them close hurts. Hurts deep in her chest. She craves time with her father but fears it as well. Whenever she feels like she’s going to crack, like she is finally going to shout that she doesn’t want to spend time with her father, with some stranger who seems so different from her vague memories, her mother’s words come back to her and she stays quiet, and agrees to dinner with her father because it makes him happy. She keeps going.

 

Jo is strong.

 

 

Jo doesn’t know how to comfort people. She thinks it’s normal when someone is in the hospital, she is numb in the face of stories of people dying. In an effort to not appear apathetic, Jo tries. She tries so hard to copy those around her. It seems to work but the movements feel stiff to her, her words lies. She knows how she should feel but it isn’t there. It scares her. She doesn’t want to be like this. She keeps going.

 

Jo is strong.

 

 

Jo slowly comes out of her shell, she loses the hoodies for a swimsuit and slowly learns to deal with herself. Talking to new people is still terrifying but she tries. Every interaction feels like a failure, like the person leaves with a negative impression of Jo. She tells her therapist, they try to work through it. This therapist is number four. She managed to stick but some things are hard to shake. School is a nightmare. Jo’s friends aren’t enrolled in the same school and she is alone. Day after day, she says nothing to no one, until one day, she clicks with someone. Well, it’s more of a clack. Something is a little off but that’s not a problem. Jo makes the adjustments and the mask slides into place. She survives the semester with someone to talk to. Promises to keep in touch aren’t upheld. It’s a simple rinse and repeat for the new semester. Her masks and her sense of self become jumbled. Jo loses track of where she feels like herself and where she doesn’t. She manages. She keeps going.

 

Jo is strong.

 

 

Jo has a secret. A secret only her closest friends know. A secret of watching a Victoria’s Secret ad a little too closely and feeling guilty for it. A secret of childish crushes on the popular boy at school. A secret of being convinced it was a phase that everyone goes through. A phase turned reality one day while watching Shakira videos and that moment of, “Oh.” She could tell her family but she is scared. So very scared. Scared of change, scared of people suddenly treating her differently, scared of being teased by those she trusts. She sees stories online of people living in an environment of fear. Hell, she hears them from her friends. Jo is a coward. She keeps going.

 

Jo is strong

 

 

Every now and again, a powerful story will surface about someone overcoming their battle with mental illness. While she feels happy for them, Jo also has a voice whispering in her ear. “You’re such a whiny child. You come from a nice little family, from a nice little house, in a safe little area. You have no reason to be feeling this way. Stop it.” Every time her hands shake while she looks for the cold medicine, like they will do something without her permission the voice is there. Every time she looks at something sharp and wonders just how easily it would cut her skin, the voice is there. Every time Jo burns herself cooking and she has to repress the urge to do it again and again and again and again until her arms are covered in welts, the voice is there. Reminding her of every time she did something even the slightest bit selfish, every time she was rude or uncaring, reminding her of everything she wished she could forget. Reminding her and ridiculing her for feeling bad about it. But that’s okay.

 

Jo keeps going because she comes from a happy little family, in happy little house, on a happy little street. She’s helpful, friendly, and kind.

 

Jo is a happy girl.

 

 

 

 

But she is weak.


End file.
